A Savior Created
by jasminefiregreen
Summary: The Eldunarí needed to save their race. They had no claws, no bodies, and no fire to do so themselves. But, they had enough power to help along those who could be their champion. The race of dragons would be saved. Whether it be by the hands of a new Dragon Rider or by the claws of the creature they made. Eragon/OC


**Hello, Ladies and Gents. I really shouldn't be publishing this considering that I can't manage to make regular updates on my**

 **current stories. But, when the inspiration hits there isn't much one can do. I really love this series and I hope I can do the**

 **characters justice. Expect infrequent updates because I am a master of procrastination when it comes to writing. Thanks for**

 **reading and I hope you enjoy :) Feel free to give me criticism, suggestions, or comments in the reviews. They are very welcome.**

 **Disclaimer: I'm only doing one of these. I don't own the Inheritance Cycle Series and I never will. I make no profit off of this.**

 **If I did own this, there would be a lot more Angela.**

She was running. Running as fast as she could. Tears were streaming down her soot covered face and she had to force down sobs. Patches of her dress had been torn and singed while her feet were bare and blistered. There was a pack on her back that harshly banged into her with each stride. In the distance, there was a large plume of smoke reaching into the sky and towards the mountains. The young woman didn't dare look behind her to see if anyone was pursuing her. Instead, she continued to run through the tall trees that surrounded the valley where her family had been living. Her long white hair whipped behind her, occasionally snagging on branches and twigs. The pale skin of her face was flushed with tears and exertion. One of her feet got caught by a root and she tumbled to the forest floor.

The girl immediately started to pull herself back up. "Dammit Lenora, you have to keep going." She, Lenora, growled to herself through gritted teeth. This wasn't the time to stop. If she stopped she wasn't sure that she would ever start again. Lenora pushed off into a sprint.

There was no place that was safe for her. The Empire had just killed her parents. She would've gone to the Varden since she was already in the Beor Mountains, but they had left. Their armies marching onto Surda causing her family to move from Surda in the first place. The Surda nobles would have granted her asylum if they knew she existed. Her parents kept her existence hidden from everyone, even the other nobles. They didn't want her to be used as a weapon for or against the empire, so she was hidden away. Now, she had to come out of hiding. There was no choice, Galbatorix just took that choice away from her. A sob ripped through her throat. They were dead, her parents were dead.

She needed to focus on something else, anything else. Survival. Surviving was the most important thing. If she lived then she could get revenge. Rage and sorrow burned in her chest. Revenge against the Empire for the murder of her parents. She needed allies. Her only option was the Varden who had just formed an alliance with Surda. Lenora could show her skills and her noble heritage in hope of them helping her. She wasn't naive. There was no chance of her retaining her freedom or life on her own, despite her training.

The last her parents spoke of it, the Varden were making their way West through the Hadarac Desert. They had started the journey in early April, so they couldn't have gotten very far. She could catch up with them while they are travelling, but it would be difficult. The Varden wouldn't be able to travel very fast due to the size of their group while she would be running as fast as she could. However, they had a head start on her and she would have to stop frequently to find food and water. Lenora didn't have much of a choice.

Lenora changed the course of her run, going West. There was a tugging feeling in her chest that pulled her in the correct direction. It was the same tugging that had her gravitating to books about dragons and had her using her fists more than swords while training. She had never questioned the little tug. Trusting that it would never lead her wrong. The fact that it was pushing her towards the Varden made her feel more hopeful about her decision. It also made her question the existence of the little tug, but there was no time for her to ponder over it. She had a lot of ground to cover while still keeping an eye out of pursuers. The two spies that killed Yu and Srina had died in the very explosion they caused. But, there was still a chance that they had others with them, so she would have to be careful.

Her pace slowed a bit. It was no longer the frantic and terrified running it was before, but a steady and smooth run. She raised a scale covered hand to her face and tried to wipe away the soot and tears. Lenora was going to need something to cover her hands. The fact she was in a casual linen dress reminded her that she needed new clothes as well. The scales on her neck, chest, hands, legs, and feet were all exposed. They glinted in the sunlight and stood out from her normal skin with their pearly whiteness. She was too eye catching. Hopefully, people would assume her to be an elf and keep their distance. White hair, purple eyes, and strange skin were less strange when imagined on an elf than on a human. Though scales were a little far-fetched for elves too.

The sun slowly set as she made her way through the trees. Her stomach clenched and rumbled while her throat was scratchy with thirst. There had been no sign of human life for miles. It would seem that the spies were alone when they were sent to kill them. She should be safe enough to stop soon. The hunger in her belly would need to be taken care of and a stream found to cure her parched throat. There was a momentary thankfulness for her body's abnormal stamina and strength. A normal human would have had to stop hours ago and been much more exhausted. Then she remembered that her parents would've been safer without her abnormalities and her thankfulness stopped.

Using her hearing, she managed to find a rushing river. Once she saw it, pausing only to drop off her pack, she jumped in. The soot on her skin needed to be washed away and she was hoping the cold water would refresh her mind. Lenora scrubbed at her skin and dress, trying to get it as clean as possible. There were so many tears and burns in the bottom of her dress that she chose to just cut off the hem to her knees. Not appropriate by society's standards, but it would do. She ran her fingers through her hair to detangle the worst of the knots, using a sharp fingernail to help the process along. It would be beneficial to cut her hair as well, but she didn't have the heart to do it. Her mother was always so proud about her long hair and used to brush it for her before bed. Thinking of it made her heart sputter, but she tried to push her grief back. There were more important matters to attend to. Food, water, and shelter to start with.

She waded out of the river, feeling much cleaner. Lenora knelt down on the river bank and opened up her pack. The bag itself used to be a source of constant irritation. Both her mother and father would insist that she took it everywhere with her in case of an emergency. To her lessons, to dinner, and even to bed. Lenora hated it on principle because it reminded her of the constant danger she and her family were in. Just because of her oddities. Now, she felt grateful for their annoying reminders.

In the bag, there were supplies to help her survive in different environments. For food there was a package of jerky, enough to last her for three days without rationing. A small sharp knife that was well-balanced for defense and hunting. A canteen filled with water. Some bandages and alcohol for injuries, though she was unlikely to endure any. A spare set of clothing that she had forgotten about that consisted of leather leggings, a long sleeved tunic, and a set of leather gloves. It would serve much better for covering her than the linen dress she was currently wearing. Finally, there was a pouch filled with enough gold to buy a horse and possibly a few nights at inn.

It wouldn't be enough to get her across the desert and to Surda. She wasn't even sure it was enough to get her into a town for more supplies. It had been packed with their home in Surda in mind, not the secluded cabin in the Beor Mountains. Lenora ran a hand down her face and tried to think about her options.

There had been rumors about moving villages throughout the Hadarac Desert. They were the closest thing to civilization near her, not counting the dwarves. She had no idea on how to get in contact with the dwarves, so she was writing them off as an option. She was going to have to cross the desert with limited supplies, hope to find a moving village, and somehow convince the Varden to help her. It was going to be rough, but there was a chance of success. With her stamina and speed, she should be able to cross the desert fairly quickly. If she pushed herself to her limits and barely slept, she could make it to Surda within two weeks. Her jerky could last her a little over a week if she rationed herself harshly. The water in her canteen would be a bigger issue. There was only enough to last a week even while rationing. If she couldn't find a moving village on her journey, she was going to arrive in Surda dehydrated and starving.

"Damn." Lenora growled out in frustration. She didn't really have a choice.

She moved back into a standing position. After taking a quick stock of her surroundings, she stripped off her wet dress. It would be better to wear the tunic and leggings now and save the dress for the hotter temperatures of the desert. Lenora stepped into the leggings and pulled the tunic over her head. Her wet hair immediately dampened her top and she wished for a piece of string to tie it back.

The piece of her dress she cut off was lying a few feet away from her. Lenora really didn't wish to have her hair snagged by more branches or flying in her face. She grabbed the piece of fabric and cut a thin strip off of the most salvageable part. It was a bit too thick and slightly sooty, but it would do.

She gathered up her hair and tied it into a ponytail. Using the knife in her pack, she cut off a bit of jerky and ate it. It wouldn't be enough to sate her hunger, but it would keep her going for a while longer. A small sip of water accompanied her meal. With her energy renewed, her hungry not as biting, and her throat not as dry, she began her journey.

* * *

Lenora cursed her luck. She cursed the Empire. And she cursed its twice-damned ruler. She had been traversing through the desert for almost two weeks now and she had no clue where she was. Her supplies had run out three days ago and there had been no sign of any moving village. All she could see was sand.

It took all of her physical and mental strength to keep moving. The heat and her body's needs were playing tricks on her mind. She wasn't even sure she was going in the right direction anymore. The tugging in her chest was guiding her towards an unknown direction and she was just blindly following.

The tunic and leggings she had worn in the beginning had been long since packed away in her bag. This left her only in her thin tunic dress that exposed her scales. The sunlight glinted off of them which increased her paranoia over someone seeing them. If she wore her other clothes she would be likely to get heat stroke, so she tried to ignore it. There was sand and grit everywhere. In her mouth, her hair. Her lips were chapped and peeling from both thirst and the unrelenting wind that assailed her. Since she had no shoes, her feet were blistered and cut. But, she kept walking. Kept running. Lenora wasn't even sure why anymore. The constant heat had wiped much of her reasoning away. She only kept moving because it was the only thing she could think to do.

Her shaking body moved step by step. One foot in front of the other. Then she wasn't moving. There was a rock by her foot. Lenora was lying on the sandy ground. For a moment she felt the need to get back up. To keep going. The moment fell away quickly as her tired body sunk further into the sand. She was just so tired. What harm could come from closing her eyes for a bit? The sound of clinking footsteps didn't register in her mind nor did the blurry sight of armored boots.


End file.
